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THE WIND FLOWER 





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THE WIND-FLOWER. 


CHAPTER I. 

There came a warm April day, and, 
cheered by the sunlight, the wind-flower 
opened one petal after another. She looked 
very delicate, slender, and frail, but she had 
a wonderfully pretty and pleasant little face. 

She saw the blue sky overhead, the green 
leaves, the bees, the butterflies, and the 
other flowers of the forest. She saw near 
her, too, a big spider who had woven a 
wonderful web; but she was not fright- 
ened; for being very gentle, she did not 
suspect evil in others. As she swayed 
lightly to and fro in the breeze, she was filled 
with all the delight and exultation of youth. 

“How bright the world is,” she ex- 


4 


THE WIND-FLOWER. 


claimed: “and I have four whole days in 
which to live ; four days, with their treas- 
ures of hours, minutes, and seconds. Let 
me not fail to enjoy them to the utmost, 
and perhaps it may be that even such a 
small thing as I am can do something in 
the world.” 

The sun shone merrily, and the wind- 
flower looked out with delighted wonder at 
so many new and beautiful things. 

A tall sweet-william, who stood near, 
and who seemed proud, not being v'-ery 
sociable with the other flowers, smiled at 
her condescendingly, and gave her some 
wise advice on the proper way to conduct 
herself so as to please the inhabitants of 
the forest. 

A great bumble-bee alighted on a twig 
near by, and told her stories of his travels 
in foreign lands. He related some things 
sufficiently improbable, but she in her sim- 
plicity believed and was delighted with 
everything he said. She listened with 
pleased surprise as he talked of humming 


THE WIND-FLOWER. 


5 


away over mountain, meadow, and forest, 
but she did not repine because she could 
not have wings and fly away like the bee. 

After some hours a child came into the 
wood, and threw himself down on the grass 
close to the wind-flower. “ I cannot go on 
the journey,” he said, in a storm of anger 
and grief, ” and I’ll not be bought off. I’ll 
have nothing to do with the new top and 
kite they have got for me.” 

When the wind-flower heard this, she 
trembled, for she thought : “ Now is my 

time to do some good ; and yet I am so 
timid, weak, and small.” But yet the wind- 
flower was not ignorant and knew many 
things ; for the flowers of the forest, not 
having time to learn slowly, are given 
knowledge of many kinds, and perceive 
many things of which our grosser senses 
fail to take note. 

She became pink with a blush, but 
gained courage to speak. The boy did not 
at first take notice ; but it was such a per- 
fect little voice that presently he listened. 


6 


THE WIND-FLOWER. 


“Why should you give up your top and 
kite because you cannot go on a journey.? ” 
she said. “It were better to try to make 
up for the loss of the journey. Think how 
charmingly the top will hum and go to 
sleep, and how you can fly your kite to the 
clouds, sending up to it now and then mes- 
sages on bits of stiff paper. Besides, to 
miss this journey will only make you enjoy 
the next one so much the more. I have no 
top or kite, but I live in the pleasant green 
wood and have four days to live. It seems 
to me a long life. I am going to enjoy it, 
and am going to do some good in it, if I 
can.” 

The boy listened, his brow was smoothed, 
and, going home, he had a merry day with 
his top and kite, and no longer repined 
after the journey. He grew into manhood, 
and acted well his part ; for he thought of 
the wind-flower, and knew the value of 
time. Whenever duty called, he was not 
found wanting ; and he enjoyed life, too, 
each day as it came, not looking forward 


THE WIND-FLOWER. 


7 


too much to some misty fairyland in the 
future which might never be reached ; but 
he kept from riot and excess, making 
pleasure a relaxation from work, and toil- 
ing that he might have a healthy desire for 
pleasure ; and he was not afraid of pain. 

Finally, there came a day when his coun- 
try was invaded. After a long day’s bat- 
tle the enemy was pushed back, but the 
white-haired general was taken wounded 
from the field. The blood was staunched, 
and the old soldier asked : “ How long will 
life last ? ” “ You are mortally wounded,” 

replied the surgeon, “ and four days are 
probably all that remain to you.” The sick 
man’s children gathered anxiously around 
his bed ; but, to the surprise of all, he 
smiled, as if the words had brought to him 
some pleasing memory. “ It is a long life,” 
he said in a low voice. “ I have been for 
many years living as if there might only 
remain to me four days. I am going to 
enjoy them, and am going to do some good 
in them, if I can.” 


8 


THE WIND-FLOWER. 


Then in a louder tone he said : “ Take 
me up into the tower, and place me by the 
window, where I can look out on the great 
blue sea covered with white sails ; for I feel 
that my spirit is ready to float away like 
that into the great ocean of eternity.” 
***** 

And so the first day of the wind-flower’s 
life passed away, filled with many little 
pleasures and surprises. When the peace- 
ful twilight came, she hung her head in 
sleep, and quiet, pleasant dreams floated 
round her all night long. 


CHAPTER II. 


Another day of sunshine ; the grass was 
greener, and there were more flowers in 
the forest. 

“ I am getting along in life, and must 
have more dignity to-day,” said the wind- 
flower ; but soon she saw so many pleasing 
things, the sunlight was so perfect, and the 
breeze blew so softly and caressingly, that 
she was nodding and smiling like the very 
youngest kind of a wind-flower. 

There was a beautiful green bird that 
sang gayly on a neighboring twig, and he 
had a modest brown mate who was sitting 
on a nest with four speckled eggs in it. 
But the green bird sang to the wind-flower 
and talked to her until the little brown bird 
became quite jealous. 

-Then came red and golden and white 


lO 


THE WIND-FLOWER. 


butterflies flitting by ; and in the sky were 
snowy clouds which drifted slowly about 
like enchanted boats, now and then hiding 
the sun and leaving the forest in shadow. 

“ This is the best day of all,” said the 
wind-flower. 

But after a while came a young woman, 
who sadly satdown close to the wind-flower. 
The spring had now no power to thrill her. 

“ On this day I was to have been a bride,” 
she said, wearily. “But now my only joy, 
bitterer than the pain of others, is to place 
new blossoms each day on my lover’s tomb. 
The dreary years stretch far into the fu- 
ture, and they may be many before I can 
seek the peace of the grave, the only peace 
I can hope for now.” 

The wind-flower trembled, as she said ; 
“Surely, if your lover loved you, he would 
not have wished you to lead a miserable 
life on his account. It is possible to be 
happy without being a bride. I am a 
lonely wind-flower, and have never seen 
another. Yet the other flowers are kind 




“ON THIS DAY I WAS TO HAVE BEEN A BRIDE.”— Page lO 


THE WIND-FLOWER. 


1 1 

to me, and every day has its history and 
its pleasures.” 

The young woman heard, and sat for a 
long time looking before her. Then she 
walked away and noticed that the sun was 
shining, the birds singing, and that it was 
springtime. 

She did not forget her lover. Ever to 
her were sacred the memories of the days 
that were gone. The walks in the long 
summer evenings, the meetings and part- 
ings, the anticipations of that bright time 
— all these things would memory bring 
back many a time and oft. And yet she 
was not miserable. Each day had its his- 
tory, some pleasure, and some kind act. 

Did she live constant to her one lov'er till 
death came ? If so, it was her affair, and 
not ours. 

Or did she find another, and, as the years 
slipped by, hear by the winter fireside the 
merry voices of children ? 

If so, it was well. Was she to cast aside 
her life as of no value because it had been 


12 


THE WIND-FLOWER. 


hurt or broken ? Does nature tell the 
crooked tree not to grow, or tell the broken 
bough not to produce leaves, flowers, or 
fruit ? No, many a tall tree shows that it 
has been twisted by the storm, and many a 
broken branch shows greenest of them all. 
Perhaps, even, having known sorrow and 
adversity, she knew the better how to enjoy 
and appreciate what remained to her of 
life. 

We know there are some worthy senti- 
mentalists who will disapprove of all this. 
They admire a broken heart in the same 
way in which they admire a broken vase 
dug up from the ruins of Troy. They have 
artistic minds, and prefer dark shades here 
and there, wishing certain people to be 
miserable lest the harmony of the picture 
should be spoiled. But they should remem- 
ber that the shades are easily found, and 
that the bright colors are those which have 
been wanting in human life. 


CHAPTER III. 


On the third day it rained. The wind- 
flower tucked down her head, but she was 
amused at the way some tiny raindrops, 
full of mischief, would jump up and sprinkle 
her in the face. 

Then came a great grasshopper, who tried 
to shelter himself under a leaf of half his 
size, and made merry with the wind-flower. 

But after that something wonderful hap- 
pened. The rain made, a rivulet, and pres- 
ently there came swimming in it, where 
such a thing had never been seen before, a 
fish an inch long. Bravely he swam against 
the current until he came to a waterfall. 
He sprang to the top of it, but was hurled 
back again, being twisted around in a most 
ridiculous fashion. Then the wind-flower, 
the grasshopper, and the fish all laughed 
together. 


14 


THE WIND-FLOWER. 


About this time a woman clothed in 
black and followed by two children, a boy 
and a girl, came slowly along. 

“ There is no springtime for us, the wid- 
ow and the orphans,” she said. “Nothing 
henceforth but sorrow and privation.” 

“Be not so sure,” said the wind-flower. 
“ I see nothing to prevent you from looking 
about and enjoying the springtime, and to 
do so would be a good preparation for 
trouble, if you are going to have it. At 
least you have your children to look after, 
and it is scarcely well to cast a gloom over 
their spirits. Youth, with its pleasures, is 
gone for you ; but the autumn ought to 
be one of the most pleasing times of the 
year.” 

Then the woman went away with her 
children, who, in after times, owed many a 
bright day to the wind-flower. In some 
way their mother ceased to speak gloomily 
or to look despondent. By opposing her 
troubles resolutely she partially overcame 
them, and recognizing that life must have 


THE WIND-FLOWER. 


15 


its cares, became reconciled to what re- 
mained. Strength came to her, and peace, 
and beauty of soul. 

Did she continue a widow, looking only 
after the welfare of her children, as they 
grew into manhood and womanhood ? If 
so, it was her affair, and not ours. 

Or did she find another husband in the 
quiet autumn days of her life? If so, it 
was well, for nature has not only given to 
widows a disposition to sympathize with 
the unfortunate and to console the sorrow- 
ful, but sometimes also gives to them 
natures capable of being consoled. 


CHAPTER IV. 


On the fourth day it still rained now and 
then, and was a little chilly. “This is 
bad,” said the wind-flower. “ I had hoped 
that the last day would be sunny; but we 
will see what can be made of it.” 

It was not long before an old man came 
strolling along in the rain. “ My days are 
almost finished,” he said ; “all the best of 
them are gone, and what remain are only 
the dregs, not worth living. My children 
are all dead, and my little grandchild will 
be left alone and unprotected when I am 
gone.” 

“You are wrong,” answered the wind- 
flower, quietly. “ You have probably some 
years yet to live, ages to me, who had four 
days to live and am now on my last. I, 
too, am old. They said I was handsome 
once, but now you see I am wrinkled and 
faded.” 


THE WIND-FLOWER. 


17 


“ Pretty yet, pretty yet,” chirped the green 
bird, and the little brown mate was vexed. 

The wind-flower smiled at the interrup- 
tion, and then continued : “Youth is over 
for you ; but you can walk about and see 
the fair world, and you ought to have 
many pleasing memories, treasures for 
your old age. Do not repine because your 
life may be brief. I heard two owls talk- 
ing last night ; for,” she added, with a half- 
sad smile, “I do not sleep as well now as 
in my younger days. The owls said that 
lasting things, such as the mountains, 
the ocean, and the eternal stars, seemed 
merely to bear patiently the burden of ex- 
istence, and that it was only short-lived 
things, such as butterflies, birds, and 
flowers, that seemed to rejoice. Provide 
the best you can for your grandchild, and 
then do not worry. This seed-pod which I 
carry will be broken after my death, and 
the seeds scattered abroad. Whether they 
will perish or spring up into beautiful 
flowers next year I do not know. You 


2 


I 8 THE WIND-FLOWER. 

have seen your children and your grand- 
children, while I can never hope to see 
a child of mine ; but yet I do not fret at a 
state of things which I cannot prevent. I do 
not know much, and do not like to put for- 
ward my opinions ; but now, in my old age, 
as I look back on my past life, with its varied 
experiences, it seems to me that it is best to 
be simple and true, that sweetness is better 
than bitterness, that light is better than dark- 
ness, that happiness is better than misery.” 

The wind-flower paused, quite out of 
breath ; for she had never made so much of 
a set speech before. The old man thanked 
her for what she had said, which pleased 
the wind-flower mightily, as none of the 
others had thought to offer any thanks. 

Then the old man went back, and was 
changed so much that people spoke of him 
as “ that good, kind old man, though some- 
what queer.” 

One day, a young man saw him sitting 
by the roadside, while his little fair-haired 
granddaughter was throwing pebbles into 


THE WIND-FLOWER. 


19 


a brook. As he noticed the old man’s 
white hair and threadbare coat, he pitied 
him. “ Is there anything I can do to as- 
sist you ? ” inquired the youth. 

“Nothing,” replied the old man. “I 
have enough to supply my few wants. 
But I will tell you a secret. I am not poor, 
though people may think so. I am a rich old 
miser. It is true that I have but little gold 
or silver, but I have two large coffers. In one 
of them I keep the good deeds I have done, 
and in the other the happy hours and days I 
have known. I have not lived altogether as 
I might have done, and they are not as full 
as they should be ; but, old and feeble as I 
am, I still add to them now and then. On 
rainy days, at quiet times, and at nights, 
when the wind howls and no one is looking, 
I get them out and gleefully count over my 
treasures. Try to live in such a way that 
when you are old you can be a miser too.” 
* * * * * 

Toward the evening of the fourth day 
the sun came out. The raindrops on the 


20 


THE WIND-FLOWER. 


trees and grass shone like diamonds ; and 
in the east hung a great rainbow. 

“It is as I wished it to be,” said the 
wind-flower ; “and I am content.” 

As the twilight came, the flowers said to 
one another in low voices : “ The wind- 
flower is going to die to-night.” Then the 
tall, proud sweet-william bent down and 
kissed the little faded wind-flower very ten- 
derly, while something shone in the eye of 
the violet — it may have been a raindrop, 
but we believe it was a tear — and the 
spring beauty hung her head sorrowfully. 

Next day the bumble-bee, the grasshop- 
per and the green bird looked for the wind- 
flower, but did not And her. Her life was 
gone ; but its effects linger yet. Perhaps in 
some future time, some bright being from 
some far-off sphere, cleaving the blue depths 
and hovering near this earth, may see in the 
warp of life a little golden thread, and, trac- 
ing it back through the maze of the years, 
may find that it was begun by a little wind- 
flower, dead in the wild wood long ago. 











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